Debts Paid in Full
by LysanderKingofSparta
Summary: When he kills a badgermaid from Salamandastron by accident, the pine marten Dunbane attempts to make amends. The badger lord and the hares, however, refuse to forgive a vermin. finished
1. Chapter 1

**On the shores of Salamandastron – present **

Dunbane sighted down the arrow shaft, aligning the flint tip with the painted seashell. Behind him, his band watched, silent. The shot was far, the target set up on a dune and barely visible in firelight.

Dunbane spoke without turning his head. "You ready to clean my claws tonight, Fishear?"

"Heh." The wandering corsair ferret smiled around a bone pick in his teeth. "Ask yourself that. You ain't gonna make the shot in this light."

Dunbane held his bow steady, keeping a smirk hidden. The shot was one he'd practiced tenfold back home in the north. The long days stationed on the borders of his grandfather's realm had offered little in the way of entertainment, so he had honed his skills instead. Breathe in, hold, breathe out and--something glittered beside the shell--release.

The bowstring twanged. Dunbane started. Eyes. Somebeast was behind the shell.

Hellgates.

The arrow flew true, like so many shafts before it. The tip struck the shell, shattering the painted oval. One of the eyes blinked out.

A horrified scream sounded from behind the dune.

Dunbane's heart cantered. He dropped the bow and bolted across the sand. There shouldn't have been anyone behind the shell. He'd been so careful to scour the moon-flecked beach to make sure he wouldn't risk hitting somebeast by accident.

Not again. Ancestors, this had to be a mistake.

He skidded to a halt, claws dug into the sand. A sudden numbness filled his belly.

A badgermaid lay sprawled on the dune slope, the arrow piercing her left eye. The shaft held the broken shell to her face like a patch.

Kicking up sand, a harelet raced for the distant menace of Salamandastron.

For a moment, Dunbane stared after the hare, then looked again at the badgermaid. Fresh blood on his paws. He had fractured what shards of honor he still possessed. He sank to his knees and cradled the badgermaid's head. "I didn't see you..."

She was on her way to Darkgates now. Any effort on his part was futile.

The thump of hindpaws heralded the rest of the band.

"Guts of the damned," Fishear said. The ferret all but swallowed his fishbone pick. "That's Lord Sabereye's daughter."

Dunbane squeezed his eyes shut. It didn't matter--commonbeast or lord's daughter, she was dead. Blood seeped down her facial fur and he ran his claws through it. He lifted his claws and drew them down, hard, across the bridge of his muzzle, mixing her blood with his. Old tradition. The sting of open cuts soon faded.

"It was an accident," Becktail said.

Dunbane looked up at his kithood friend.

The mink squatted, his tailfur brushed out, and laid a paw on Dunbane's shoulder. "You can't blame yourself."

Of course he could. Dunbane hissed and curled his lips up. The salty air brushed against his teeth and gums. Shame mated with self-loathing and bred rage. "Back away." He refused to risk lashing out and hurting his friends. Not again. "All of you!"

They scuttled backwards. Dunbane took slow breaths, laid the badgermaid's head on the sand, and forced himself to stand. He looked out to sea. Out there was his home, lost in the fog rolling in. Did his mate and father still expect him he would come back?

"Viscount?" Becktail said, hesitant. Several of the band cleared their throats, shuffling their paws. They didn't speak. Most couldn't.

Dunbane felt the worry in their stares without seeing their eyes.

"I'd run if'n I was you." Fisheye shuffled back. "Them badger lords ain't kind or merciful."

Dunbane raised his head and let the cool night air slither down his neckfur. He shivered. Knowing his duty didn't make the bubbling fear drain away. "You run, ferret."

Fisheye needed no encouragement. "Good luck, marten." He loped back to the camp to gather his pack and fled.

Becktail padded up. The one-eyed mink sighed and touched a paw to the side of Dunbane's chin. A gentle tug made Dunbane look at his friend.

"What now?" Becktail asked.

Dunbane looked towards the mountain shadow against the blackened sky. Salamandastron. Legendary fortress and guardian of the shores. He felt its condemnation--seasons of blood were buried in the sands and painted on the walls of the fortress. Like its rulers, it was unmerciful.

Dunbane half-flattened his ears. "I want you all to wait back at camp. Pack and leave at dawn."

Rufet, a mute weasel, showed his teeth and shook his head. He mimed following Dunbane.

Loyalty. Dunbane sometimes hated that his followers showed him such respect and love. They would die for him. What had he ever done to warrant that loyalty? He only did his best to ensure they had shelter and food and safety since they had left. He struggled to be a just and fair leader, like his grandfather had taught him. It was his duty to them. But that didn't explain it. He was a pale, withering leaf compared to his grandfather, or his father--they were oaks, towering and strong. They always chose rightly and upheld their honor.

Dunbane had inherited the title from his sires, but not their spirits. Lashaday had proven that. It was his grandfather's one and last mistake not to have executed him.

And now, it had happened again. He'd sworn never to kill outside battle--and there was a corpse at his feet.

Dunbane sighed. Exile had proved too merciful. "I'm doing this alone."

Becktail seized his jaw and yanked his head around so they were face to face.

"This isn't Lashaday," Becktail said, angry. "You didn't murder that badger. It was an accident."

Dunbane forced the mink's paw away. It didn't matter. Why did none of them see that? "I know," Dunbane said. "That doesn't..."

"If you know, then you ought to know I'm not letting you walk over there to lose your head."

Dunbane shoved Becktail aside. "It should have been done at Lashaday."

Becktail's rapier hissed against its scabbard. "Damn you, listen to me!"

Dunbane stopped, his backfur stiff. He swung around and the mink's rapier tip flicked under his chin, digging into his throat. Becktail's one eye narrowed.

Hisses and surprised growls came from the others. Dunbane held up his paws, signaling they stay back.

"Wait for the dawn," Becktail said. "We'll go with you. Explain what happened. The shell has to be proof enough."

Dunbane touched his claws to the edge of the rapier blade. "And if it's not? You've heard the stories." He paused against the steel.

Becktail's shoulders slumped. He lowered he rapier. "Is this your twisted way of ridding yourself of guilt?" He rubbed his cheek, below his empty socket. "Don't be an idiot, Dun. You can let the badger lord kill you and what's it going to accomplish?"

Dunbane had heard this before. Seadune, his mate, had snarled at him through the prison cell bars for what felt like seasons. He hadn't said a word in defense. He hadn't been able to think of anything to say.

"It won't bring Talshesh back," Becktail said.

"It might bring her justice."

"You're a fool." Becktail sheathed his rapier. "This isn't worth your life."

To that, Dunbane didn't reply.

Becktail spat on the beach. "Fine. Do you want me to tell your father you died for nothing? Or that you died acting like a fool?"

Dunbane clicked his teeth before he snapped at Becktail. His head ached; tension and confusion. "Tell him what you want."

His hindlegs quivered. With a final glance at his band, his friends, his brothers, Dunbane scooped up the badgermaid's limp body and walked towards Salamandastron.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lashaday – six seasons prior**

Dunbane winced and rolled his shoulder. The exhaustive training session was over, finally. He'd begun to think Master Vaswa meant to spar him to death. He shook dust from his headfur and spat grit. Hellgates, whoever thought training in a ring of sand was practical needed to be shot.

Frustration still burned under his pelt. For a full afternoon of lessons and practice, he was no better than he was yesterday. Or the day before that. Or a _month_ before. Vaswa had nothing left to teach, yet he didn't accept that. Dunbane's letters of request back to his grandfather to be moved out of Post Lashaday or to receive a new weaponsmaster had all gone unanswered.

So he remained stuck in this seasons-forsaken corner of the realm, forgotten and wasting his talents and his life guarding a stretch of rock and snow by the coast. The biggest threat was sea birds.

Dunbane stomped caked sand from between his toes and shouldered open the door to his hut. A stinking hut. Nothing grander than four walls, a hammock, a table with a stool, and his weapons and clothing chest.

Dunbane narrowed his eyes. Where was Talshesh? She'd promised to meet him. He unslung his buckler and saber and looked around. Unease prickled his nape.

He sniffed. Over the musty odors of unwashed fur, polishing oil and dirt floors, he scented another male's gland musk. A growl built in his chest. He couldn't place the musk yet. He smelled Talshesh, too; her scent was fresher. She'd been here maybe an hour ago.

He dropped his buckler on the table and prowled the limited area, tasting the stale air. Vague recognition toyed at his mind—just out of reach. He inhaled deeper, closed his eyes, and focused.

Darkgates. Maincoat? What was he doing with Talshesh?

Dunbane shook his head and strapped on his saber. Asking the empty room was pointless. He'd find his lieutenant and ask. His lip curled in a restrained snarl. He needed an excuse to shake off the building tensions.

Dusk came early with the autumn weather and a clustering storm front in the south. Dunbane inhaled the chill air and loped towards the barracks. It wasn't much—a long, low-slung building with a peaked roof and a slatted fence in back for a training yard.

Post Lashaday was a tight-packed collection of huts and workshops. A military outpost set to guard the northern coastal border, it had burgeoned into a neatly ordered village. Families moved together or grew in the close-knit community.

Except him. He had no regrets about leaving his mate back home. A loveless, strained bonding was all that existed between them. He'd hoped he could learn to at least appreciate her, but it was impossible. She was cool and stiffly polite. And sterile. Kits might have been the link to make her see him as more than a stranger she'd married out of political necessity. His father doted on her like a blood daughter and the two were close. Dunbane had little doubt he was stationed here in the wilderness so she didn't have to tolerate him.

If not for Talshesh, existence here would have been unbearable. He hadn't seen her much lately. Practice and work with a bow took so much time. She understood, though. She was there when he needed her.

Dunbane shoved his way into the crowded barrack mess hall. A quick scan of the fifty odd soldiers devouring the leftover sea bird and wheat cakes showed no sign of Maincoat.

The body heat from so many creatures made the air stifling. A sudden wave of disgust scudded over Dunbane. He knew a pawfull of the warriors personally; he had even a few friends. But they were all complacent and content. The urge to wander didn't keep them up at night, torn between desires and duty.

Biting down the urge to curse the warriors out for no reason, he padded over to the mink, Becktail. "Have you seen Maincoat?"

Becktail licked cooked bird fat from his muzzle. "Not since this morning."

Dunbane swished his tail, irritable. "Has he been looking for me?"

"Not that I know, Viscount. Why, something wrong?" Concern creased lines in the mink's fur around his good eye.

Dunbane sighed. "No." He was jumping at shadows and old scents.

Stress and the constant frustration wore down his nerves. He needed to get away from everyone, cool his fur and try to rest. He wanted Talshesh—her soft, warm body under his, her levelheaded words, and her sympathetic ear.

He turned and stepped outside again. Where was she? A skulking idea crept past his mind and he frowned. She wouldn't.

His backfur stiff with unease, Dunbane trotted through the streets until he spied Maincoat's hut. The shutters were closed and no candlelight showed through the cracks. Silent, Dunbane slunk closer and cocked his ears, listening.

Muffled grunts and moans seeped under the door and through the shutters. The heavy musk that saturated Maincoat's hut was spiced with Talshesh's sweeter scent.

Heart pounding, Dunbane tested the door. Maincoat never locked it. The door swung open. The hut was like his, minimalist, save for the reed mats on the floor. An oil lamp guttered on the table, turned low so the soft yellow glow left plenty of shadows along the walls.

Maincoat had his teeth sunk into Talshesh's scruff, straddling her. Both martens growled and she arched her hindquarters against him. Their tails curled together as they rutted on the bed.

The smell of heat and sex stung Dunbane's nostrils. Shock faded behind raw fury. "Talshesh?"

Both lovers started. Maincoat sat up. "Viscount."

Talshesh pinned her ears back, dark eyes wide. "What—what're you doing here?"

Dunbane's hind legs quivered. "What am _I_ doing here?"

Maincoat rolled off the cot and scrabbled for his pants. "These are my quarters, sir."

Rage rippled through Dunbane, and for a moment the world was composed of shades of red. "_She_ isn't yours."

"I don't _belong_ to anyone," Talshesh said. "What am I supposed to do, Dun? Wait around for you when you're only ever practicing or out wandering? You're never around when you say you'll be." She pulled her tunic over her head, glaring at him. "You should've been at your quarters for lunch, and back an hour before dusk. I waited but you never showed up."

Dunbane shook his head. That gave her no excuse to run to another marten. She'd said she loved him. Did that mean nothing? His teeth showed. "I have duties to attend to."

"Right, you always do." She snorted. "The duties you think are so important you never see anything else." She bared her fangs back at him. "I've had enough, Dun. If you can't find time to even _see_ me in a month, I'll find someone who can." She took Maincoat's paw.

Dunbane glanced between them, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. This wasn't happening. Not Talshesh. She couldn't betray him like this.

"That's how it is?" Dunbane asked.

"What's that mean?" Talshesh pressed her side against Maincoat's. "I'm here as the bloody cartographer, Dun. I can decide who I want stay with."

She could betray him that easily, just toss aside everything they'd shared before for another male? Dunbane hissed, his body quivering with anger. He drew his saber. "Fine."

Maincoat shoved Talshesh away and lunged for his sword hung on the wall. He grabbed the hilt. Dunbane took a step and rammed his blade home, up Maincoat's stomach and into his heart. The other marten jerked, eyes wide. Blood dripped down his jaw.

Dunbane kicked the body off his blade, gore slicking his paw and arm. He shook droplets of blood from his whiskers, his pulse drumming in his ears. The surge of vengeful excitement remained and he pointed the saber at Talshesh. "Then stay with him like you've decided."

She hunkered down, hissing at him, tears rolling down her muzzle. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"This damn place is what's wrong! I hate it. You, him, every damned beast here." He kicked over the table. The dim oil lamp shattered and flames licked the walls. Dunbane watched the fire, felt its heat mimic the rage inside his chest. "It should all burn."

"What--"

Dunbane snarled and spun on her, jabbing the saber at her. "Shut up, you've done enough!"

Resistance met his blade and jarred his arm. Steel sunk into her neck. Her eyes widened and she clutched her throat, the blood soaking through her creamy fur.

Dunbane yelped in surprise. He hadn't meant to kill her. Her body toppled over and blood pooled around her head and shoulder. Not Talshesh. He wouldn't hurt her like that, he couldn't--

The mats caught fire and smoke clogged his eyes and mouth. Coughing, Dunbane pushed through the haze towards the door.

He blinked back stinging tears. Already the walls burned, the dry wood catching fast. Yes. The dead, dry, suffocating nature of Lashaday should burn, all of it. The flames raged before his eyes and the heat blistered his nose and singed his fur.

It was hellgates opened.

Bodies clustered around him, paws dragging him back. Becktail shouted at him, the words incoherent.

"Let it burn," Dunbane said.

"Are you mad?" Spittle flecked the mink's jaws and he shook Dunbane. "Help us put the fires out!"

Dunbane's throat was raw and he realized he was shouting. "Let it burn, all of it. All of Lashaday!" He spun on the shocked soldiers and other creatures. "Anyone who stops it will face execution for insubordination."

The fires had jumped. Strong winds from the south caught the sparks and flicked them into the other huts.

Creatures stampeded for safety. Screams and yowls of fright and pain were lost in the inferno's roar.

Dunbane let Becktail and half a dozen others drag him out of the smoke and heat. He closed his eyes, trembling, and felt the weight of his bloodied saber in paw. In his head, he saw Talshesh's glazed eyes and the fire spreading around her.

_What is wrong with you?_

He had no control. No honor. There was far more wrong with him than anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Salamandastron – present day**

The badger Lord Sabereye gripped his forge hammer until his muscles bulged and the blood drained from his massive paw.

Starbloom, a seasoned hare matron, stood to attention, but her paws twitched around her sling. "Y'see, sah, I found him dashin' along the beach, sobbin' and mutterin' about Loam. Didn't see her, sah, so I brought him back, but I can't get much out of him."

Beside the graying hare matron was a young, wiry harelet, tears staining his cheek fur and whiskers.

Sabereye glowered, the bloodwrath burning in his chest and flicking at the corners of his eyes. "Where is my daughter, Wifpaw? What were you two doing out so late?" All Sabereye received was an unintelligible sniff. "Speak, now!"

The harlet jumped and then saluted shakily. "Me a-an' Loam, we was trottin' down on the south shore, 'bout a mile from here," Wifpaw said. "It was just some fun y'see, sah. She wanted to go roamin', she said, an' I had to go with her. I thought I saw summit off inland, and Loam thought she saw summit nearer to the coast. She told me to split up, an' we'd meet back at a rendezvous point in an hour." His lip quivered.

Sabereye snorted, a roar building in his massive chest. "Spit it out, Wifpaw."

"Yes, sah. I went off after lookin' around, I didn't find nothin' so I headed back to meet Loam." The harelet swallowed, his hindlegs shaking. "Well, sah, Loam said she'd found a band of vermin, an' she told me she wanted to check it out. I objected, sah, an' I tried to persuade her otherwise, but she wouldn't budge. I followed her, hopin' there wouldn't be no trouble, an'…" Wifpaw's voice caught and he dropped his gaze, sniffing again.

It was all Sabereye could do not to bellow. "Go on."

"Me an' Loam… we, well, sah, we crawled up a sand due and saw a small band o' vermin, maybe a score an' a half. I said we should get out o' there, but Loam wanted to scout them out and report back herself, sah. But anyway, sah, she told me t' start back, an' said she'd be right along."

"And what happened to Loam?"

"Poor Loam was crouched on the ridge of a sand dune, sah, but before she could come back down--" the young hare's voice broke. "Somebeast in that vermin camp shot her right between the eyes. All I saw was her body when she rolled down the dune! Then the vermin mounted the dune an' I ran back here, sah. I—I didn't know what else to do, an' they would've killed me too if I'd stayed!"

Starbloom patted Wifpaw's shoulder. "Stiff upper lip, laddie buck. You did wot y'could."

Gripping the edges of the anvil, Sabereye did his best to keep his now raging temper and overwhelming grief in check. He gritted at Starbloom, "Summon a hundred of the Long Patrol. I will avenge Loam's death, and rid the land of this new scum. You, Wifpaw, may go to your quarters. Now."

Wifpaw nodded and bounded off. The hare matron saluted and trotted off.

"I will find all the vermin." Sabereye threw off his forge apron and picked up his halberd, Goresteel. "I will see each of their faces as I send them to Hellgates. I swear it!"

His booming voice echoed through the halls of the mountain. It was as if Salamandastron itself shook with wroth.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Sable Count's castle -- six seasons prior**

"Half of Lashaday perished," Sunbane said. "My friend Vaswa was among the dead." The grizzled marten paced before the court hearth fire. Despite his age, his fur still had a healthy gloss. Muscles rippled under his pelt as he moved. "Did you know that?"

Dunbane stared at the dull iron manacles around his wrists. "No, sire." He hadn't intended to replace the weaponsmaster that way.

The great hall was empty save for himself and the Sable Count, his grandfather. Outside the shutters, insulated with heavy tapestries, the storm winds yowled, feral and vicious. Two days of rain had stopped any chance of the fires spreading beyond the outpost.

"Was it worth it?" Sunbane demanded. "Scores of lives lost because of your petty _jealousy_?" Fury shone in the count's dark eyes. The tawny patch of throat fur--a sunburst pattern that had earned him his name--was streaked with soot, a sign of mourning.

Dunbane pinned his ears in shame. He'd asked himself that same question since he was delivered to his grandfather in chains. When the rains had tamped out the flames, he'd walked through the mud and ash streets.

Every charred, twisted body he saw had deepened the horror and realization at what he'd done. He'd murdered half a town full of innocent creatures, his _subjects_, the ones he was supposed to one day protect and rule when he took the Sable Crown from his father.

"Answer me, Viscount."

Dunbane squeezed his eyes shut and shivered, pushing back the memories of Lashaday's ruins. "No, sire." _Just say it already. Condemn me._

Sunbane's breath hissed between his teeth. "I've spared your mate's honor, and that of your father. The deaths in Lashaday were caused by an untended hearth fire that spread when most were asleep. Officially, Viscount, you had nothing to do with it."

Dunbane winced. "What becomes of me, then?"

"Justice would dictate I execute you myself," the Sable Count said.

_Will you make it quick?_ Dunbane couldn't find the strength to ask it aloud. No courage, no honor; he was nothing any longer.

"However." Sunbane tapped his sword tip against the granite floor. Click click click. "It is beneath me to spill a weakling coward's blood in ritual execution." Click click. "You will be exiled, Viscount, with what remains of the garrison you commanded in Lashaday." Click. "Look at me."

Dunbane obeyed.

"Should you ever redeem your honor," the Sable Count said quietly, "you may return to my realm and be called my heir. Should you not, I never want to see your face again." He turned his back on Dunbane and sheathed his sword. "I trust you know the way to the cells and have the sense to stay there until otherwise released."

"Yes, sire."

#

"You're going to get yourself killed, aren't you?" Seadune said. She stood outside the iron prison cell, arms folded over her belly. Her voice never rose from the chill, even whisper she always used with him.

Dunbane sat on the stone bench. Was it that transparent? A ship was readying for him and his soldiers—those who were still willing to follow him. The memory of Talshesh's wide-eyed death stare burned behind his eyelids, sleeping or awake.

_What is wrong with you?_

"A mistake isn't worth killing yourself over." Seadune spoke as if she had memorized a poem. Stiff and each word measured. Had she brought this message from his father?

Dunbane turned his head away, ears flattened. He leaned back against the cold stones. Redeem his honor? He didn't know how. Even if he made it his life's goal to save lives rather than end them, never to kill outside the necessity of battle, that wouldn't bring Talshesh and Maincoat back.

_But I won't kill again. I swear. Not outside honorable--_he almost scoffed at the word--_combat. Never again._

When he didn't speak, Seadune left. He wondered if he should have said goodbye and asked if she would wait for him. He hoped she didn't.

#

Dunbane glanced at Becktail. The one-eyed mink stood beside him on the deck of the tiny vessel, _Eye of Seablood_.

"None of you have to come with me," Dunbane said.

"I do if I'm gonna keep you alive." Becktail smiled grimly. "You're still my friend and commander, Dun."

Dunbane shut his eyes as the sun crested the horizon and they set sail. For his crew's sake, he would do his damndest to bring them home one day.

The seasons passed, rough and hard, on the sea and the lands they traveled. Dunbane humored Becktail and let the mink keep him alive. Though it took three winters, at last he found the strength to let go some of his guilt and began to enjoy his life again. He would not make the same mistakes.

One day, he vowed, he would wash the blood from his paws and soul.


	5. Chapter 5

**Salamandastron's shores – present **

The moon glided higher in the sky, brilliant silver and too bright. Dunbane shifted his grip on the badgermaid's body. The magnitude of the mountain belied how far it was—however long he walked, his tracks fading on the harder ground, he seemed not to close the distance.

He locked his teeth, his shoulders strained from holding the badgermaid. Ahead, shadows flickered on the silver-washed landscape. Hares. They made no pretense at stealth, marching with weapons drawn. Leading them stormed the Badger Lord Sabereye, a halberd balanced across one shoulder. He towered over his soldiers, the moonlight catching on his silver and black-striped fur.

Dunbane's legs trembled. He lifted his chin and paused, waiting. The hares and the badger saw him now. The wind nicked his ears and whiskers, whisking his scent towards the approaching Long Patrol. He kept his bushy tail curled around one ankle.

"Lord of Salamandastron?" Dunbane called. He would face whatever justice the badger demanded. He had never admitted the fires in Lashaday had been his fault. There had never been a need, yet he it had always felt like a shadow of cowardice that he had never openly claimed responsibility for his mistakes.

Tonight, he would not hide what he had done.

Sabereye's voice shook with rage. "Vermin." He was close enough now, Dunbane saw the red bloodlust in the badger's eyes.

Dunbane slowly laid the badgermaid's body down. "My lord, I—"

Sabereye bellowed and charged. Dunbane jumped and dodged to the side before he controlled his instinct. The Badger Lord gave him no chance to explain. Sabereye scooped up his daughter in one arm and swung out with the other. A massive fist, wrapped around the halberd shaft, slammed into the side of Dunbane's muzzle, snapping his head to the side.

The moon tripled and burst into a myriad of stars. Dunbane dropped, stunned and unable to move. Was his neck broken? The ground trembled form the drum of paws. Shouts of "Eulalia! Blood n' vinegar!" warbled in the night. A powerful hindpaw connected with his ribs.

Dunbane's body skidded but he couldn't coordinate his limbs, he couldn't get up. Pain filtered through the haze and he desperately struggled against the sucking dark tide pulling him towards unconsciousness. Hellgates, he needed to get up.

The darkness won.

#

Becktail sat on the edge of the tideline, away from the camp. Dunbane's unstrung bow balanced atop his knees. He debated following his friend, beating some sense into him, but seeing the pain in the marten's eyes had kept him here.

Dunbane had to do this on his own.

_Then what?_ _We all sail home and sing how he died a fool and then forget him?_ Becktail growled to himself. _I bloody don't think so._ Damn what Dunbane wanted to the Darkgates. Becktail sprang up. He'd been through too much with the marten already to abandon the tradition now.

Their ship had been wrecked miles down the coast over a month ago. They'd been traveling on foot since, hoping once they were away from Salamandastron's territory, a port could be found to assist them. Becktail didn't trust pirates.

_A ship, and we can go home._ He wanted Dunbane with him when they returned.

He trotted up the shore. Halfway towards the camp, he heard the thunderous roar. His tailfur brushed out in fright. Moonlight dappled off fur and steel—hares, five score at least, led by the mountain lord—bore down on the band.

Becktail sprinted towards his friends, shouting an alarm that was drowned out in the attacking army's charge.

#

A sand beetle crawling across his nose pulled Dunbane towards consciousness. His neck throbbed, his mouth swollen and blood and sand leaving a gritty patina on his tongue. A cracked jaw and missing fang added to the pain. He blinked.

Screams and warcries in the distance, mingled with the too familiar sound of steel on steel.

Moaning, he levered himself onto his forearms. Dunbane craned his stiff neck around. Sabereye and his hares were slaughtering his band.

Panic spurred him to stand. Dizzy, he limped towards the sounds of battle. Blood and bodies painted the sand. Dunbane tripped over Hushclaw's broken corpse. The fox's skull had been cleaved open.

An invisible fiery claw gouged in his chest. Not again.

"Sabereye!" Dunbane howled. "Stop this—I'm the one who killed your daughter!"

The badger's huge form turned in the melee towards his voice. Dunbane spat blood and sand and yowled again, a feral and broken cry of pain. _Stop murdering my friends! They were not _part _of this!_

Blood turned black in the moonlight. Around him, a heavy silence only defeat brought settled over the shore. Dunbane blinked. The camp was in ruins—ash from the fire scattered about the bodies of his soldiers.

They were all dead.

Dunbane sagged to his knees. The unseen fire-claws in his chest smothered his breath. The hares, panting and wiping gore from their weapons, stood aside as Sabereye lumbered through the carnage and stopped before Dunbane.

"What did you say, vermin?"

Dunbane pressed a paw against his chest. "I'm the only one responsible. That's why I approached you, badger, I only wanted to make amends for my mistake." His voice came out a rasp. "_I_ killed your daughter. It was an accident, one I was—am—willing to pay for. You didn't have to murder my friends… they were not part of this!"

They shouldn't have paid his price.

The wickedly sharp spear-tip at the top of the halberd leveled at Dunbane's chest. He wanted the anger back, the fury that he'd felt before. When had he let it go? Grief hurt worse. He stared at the bodies. So like Lashaday.

Slowly, Dunbane stood and met the Badger Lord's gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not a coward. I will take responsibility for what I've done." He prayed the winds would carry his words to his grandfather.

"Then go to Darkgates," Lord Sabereye said. He thrust the halberd forward.

The spear-tip slammed through Dunbane's ribs, cracking bone and puncturing organs. Agony followed a breath later. With a roar, the badger swung the pole weapon, slinging Dunbane across the shore. He landed hard in the lapping tide, his chest ripped open.

Darkness closed in around him again. With the last of his strength, he turned his head north, towards his home. Blood spread through the water, black-red in the moonlight. The cold licked his ears and seeped up his nostrils. _I'm sorry, Grandfather. Please forgive me._

He only wished he could know if he had redeemed his honor.

END


End file.
